Chapter 58
T he bird from Lynx returned quickly, but the words were far more terse than before.
Not a refusal, though. Just a brief agreement to send his son to discuss the arrangement, with a clear implication that he may not agree. After an internal debate, I chose the cabin as a meeting place. It was customary to meet in the future husband’s territory, and the cabin was close enough to the border to feel safe for Lynx without the inconvenience of tents in the dead of winter.
I rarely welcomed outsiders to my mother’s cabin, but if this alliance were to go through, they would be family. More than that, I was ready to return and scourge my brain of the memory of Samu setting foot in that space.
I handed off the letter to Kirill to send, then turned my attention to the bed. The curtains were closed, the occupant inside currently attempting to force Koshka to pick out a name for himself, and it occurred to me that she also could stand to get out of these four walls.
Not to mention, I had no intention of leaving her behind. Still, she had a tendency to panic at the idea of being far from her favorite nest of covers.
“Boris?” Rowan’s murmur came through the canopy. “Really? All right. Boris, it is.”
I shook my head, crossing over to the bed.
“Lemmikki,” I called, opening the curtains. “Do you think you will leave bed today?”
Koshka and the princess both tilted their heads to peer up at me, holding nearly identical expressions of mischief in their feline eyes.
“No,” she said plainly. “Boris and I are rather comfortable where we are, and are likely to stay here for the foreseeable future.”
Ah. So it was to be a cocoon day for her, then. That wasn’t unexpected, given yesterday’s letter from Elk.
I crossed my arms across my chest, debating the easiest way to sway her.
“Boris?” I asked, mostly to stall. “Naming other people’s cats is presumptuous, even for you.”
She shot me a victorious smirk. “I thought he wasn’t your cat.”
Cocoon day or not, at least she hadn’t gone silent. Which I reminded myself was a relief, even as I shook my head in exasperation.
“So you and Boris are content where you are?” I baited.
“Yes.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
“Because I have business to attend to at the cabin. I need to leave tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widened, and she sucked in a breath through her nose. She was panicking already. If I hadn’t already decided I couldn’t leave her here alone, this would have set it in stone.
“I thought you might want to come along,” I kept my tone light. “But if you’re happy where you are...”
She let out a relieved breath, throwing the blankets off and getting to her feet like she was worried I was ready to abandon her this very moment.
“Now that you mention it, I find lounging in bed is getting quite monotonous,” she said airily, her eyes already sparkling with excitement.
I almost laughed at the abrupt change in her mood. At least some of her enthusiasm should help when she got on a horse for the first time with the remnants of those injuries.
I scanned her for signs of pain, but she was standing up straight. Very straight, as it happened, with her shoulders back, laces askew, curls tumbling over the curves she was casually putting on display because we had never known a single normal boundary between us, let alone propriety. They had all burned to ashes the first night we shared a very small bed.
Why did it feel so different now than it had then? Perhaps because her nightgown wasn’t dragged out of a chest that had been in the attic for seven hundred years.
Or perhaps because then she had only been an enticing enigma. Gorgeous and feral and unknown. I knew her now, though. Every nuance of every expression she made, the shape of her curves and the way they felt pressed up against me in the still morning hours, how her stubbornness lived at war with her rare moments of truth.
I met her gaze once more, trying to hide what was sure to be brimming in my own.
“We should have Taisiya bring you your clothes,” I said, clearing my suddenly dry throat. “My shirts aren’t exactly road-worthy this time of year.”
She froze for a fraction of a moment at the outward acknowledgement of one of the many peculiarities of our situation, but she recovered quickly.
“Well, that’s your opinion.” She shrugged, drawing attention to all of the reasons she couldn’t be seen by the men this way. “I think it would lighten the mood substantially.”
That was one way of putting it.
“Indeed. And I’m sure my men would be very focused with you on a horse in that. Storms, we’d be lucky if the Unclanned didn’t kill us all.” As soon as the words left my lips, I realized it was the first time I had ever admitted to her that I found her objectively attractive.
It was hardly a secret, though. It wasn’t as though she didn’t have a mirror.
“Well, that’s reason enough for me,” she said, all false sweetness.
I fought another chuckle, tilting my head back. “ Der’mo , Lemmikki. Is there anything I could say that you wouldn’t argue with?”
She put a finger to her lips. “Hmm. It doesn’t seem likely.”
No. No, it did not.
It was a rather eventful evening between Rowan trying on the new dresses I’d ordered for her, and the judgemental glares from her maid about her needing to wear them. Or maybe it was judgment over the fact that the princess had been living her life in nothing more than my shirt for the past several weeks.
Either way, I wasn’t in the mood to put up with Taisiya’s attitude tonight. With one pointed glare, she sheepishly adjusted her tone.
After that, there was an incident with Rowan blaming Boris for the unearthly shriek that echoed off the bedroom walls when she caught sight of a small rodent.
Boring was at least not a word I would use to describe my time with the princess.
It was still dark out when I all but pried my lemmikki from her side of the bed.
In the early hours of the morning she was even more feral than normal, clinging to the pillows and hissing at me in a way that even Boris would never dare to do.
She stumbled from the bed and into the armoire, grabbing a bundle of dark fabric before muttering a string of curses and disappearing into the lavatory.
While she changed, I took the opportunity to make the bed and neatly organize the items on her nightstand.
I glanced up as the door creaked open, the soft sound of her heeled boots clicking against the floor.
“All right, ready to go,” she announced from the doorway.
For all that I was used to seeing her in my shirts, I hadn’t been quite prepared to see her in a gown with my clan colors. Her hair was neatly braided back in a matching velvet ribbon, a few curls springing loose to frame her face.
She was somehow a perfect blend of both of our cultures. My colors, my kingdom’s style of gown, with her wild, scarlet curls and loose skirts.
I shook my head, immediately desisting from so openly gawking at her.
“Not quite,” I replied, moving across the room to the armoire.
There was no telling what we would encounter on the road. Since I could be reasonably sure she wouldn’t stab me these days, I had already planned to give her back her dagger.
Seeing her like this, though, I couldn’t deny also wanting to reunite her with another piece of herself. Of her home.
I grabbed the siren dagger from its hiding place, before turning to offer it to her.
Rowan’s jade eyes went wide, and she took a step closer.
“Just...try to refrain from stabbing me,” I said with a shrug.
“No promises,” she said softly, stretching her hand out to take the blade.
The tips of her fingers gently scraped along my palm as she grabbed her dagger. The ghost of her touch lingered even once she pulled her hand away, and I found myself clenching my fist to rid my skin of the sensation.
Her shoulders eased as she examined it, like something had clicked into place—a piece of her that had been missing up until this very moment.
The corner of her mouth pulled upward in a knowing smirk. Her eyes met mine once again, bright with mischief as she said: “Well, I’m not going to thank you for giving me back what you stole.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. It is an interesting design choice,” I teased, clearing my throat while my gaze flitted from hers down to the rather shapely dagger that in no way resembled her or her curves.
“It’s a family heirloom!”
It was an effort not to laugh at her defensive tone.
“Interesting family, then,” I replied, and she gave me a look that said I wasn’t wrong.
After her lewd dagger was once again sheathed at her thigh, we made our way to the stables. The sky was an ominous gray, raining large snowflakes down all around us. I glanced at Rowan from the corner of my eye, watching her assess the sky in that curious way of hers.
“Shall we expect this to continue?” I asked.
She stiffened for a moment, a reflexive reaction whenever I asked her about the weather. Then she was studying the sky, snowflakes falling onto her hair and thick lashes.
I swallowed hard while Rowan shook her head, freeing some of the snow from her hair. “The snow should stop falling soon enough.”
I wondered if she would ever offer a real explanation of her unique ability, but I supposed for now, I didn’t necessarily need one. Asking each other questions wasn’t exactly what we did.
Maybe because we both had plenty of things we never wanted to be forced to discuss.
“All right, then,” I said evenly, before leading her to the stables.
It was too soon for her to attempt riding solo, so I gently helped her into the double-saddle on Maxim instead. To my everlasting shock, neither she nor my destrier balked at the arrangement.
For Maxim, I wondered if he was simply growing used to her, or if he could sense the injuries lingering just beneath the fabric of her gown. And as for my feral princess, she actually cast me what I could have sworn was a grateful smile, before easing into the saddle.
Whether it was the excitement of leaving the estate, or just a sign that she knew this journey wouldn’t be easy for her, I couldn’t be sure.
Still, I wondered how long this strange new truce could possibly last, and what would be the thing to shatter it.